


nobody can save me now (its do or die)

by girlwatchings



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/M, Violence, Winter Soldier AU, legit started as an aim conversation, still cant believe this turned into an actual fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-25
Updated: 2014-09-29
Packaged: 2018-02-18 18:11:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2357399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlwatchings/pseuds/girlwatchings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>here's the thing -- one day she's here and the next she's just not.</p><p>or, when clarke goes missing, everything changes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. prolouge

**Author's Note:**

> this came about as a result of a re-watch of episode 7 then proceeding to watch Captain America 2 too all the while eating chocolate icing out of the tub, so i’m still not 100% sure what i’ve written, exactly but hopefully you all enjoy. keep in mind that this story goes AU from 1x07.

Somewhere between pulling a knife from Finn’s chest and Raven’s heartbroken looks and helping Bellamy torture a grounder and confronting her mother over her role in her father’s death and doing other very shitty things, something snaps inside of Clarke. Something dark and dangerous and volatile and oh so very real breaks and she just can’t anymore. She can’t think, she can’t breathe and she can’t do anything to help anyone, at least not while she’s inside the drop ship. The logical and pragmatic leader inside of her tells that she’s fucking stupid for venturing inside when a fucking hurricane rages on outside but hey - when has she been known to make smart choices as of late?

Clarke ventures outside and closes her eyes, trying to quell the sobs that bubble up her throat. Rain and wind whip her hair and burn her skin but Clarke doesn’t care. She’d given everything her all tonight. She dragged it all up from some dark place within her and used it to save Finn, torture the Grounder and reconcile the fact her mother is a traitor. She has nothing left right now, she is empty and alone and the one person who didn’t make her feel that way is kind of in love with another girl and possibly dead. Clarke lets out a sob and presses the palm of her hands to her eyes.

She promised herself that she’d only be outside for a minute or two, not too long because the amount of dry clothes is dwindling rapidly and she can’t afford to spend the next day in wet clothes. That plan, however, gets shot to shit every time she remembers the things she did inside the drop ship. The tears flow freely now, because how the fuck did she get to this point in her life?

She’s a _healer_ and she let Bellamy cut another person up. She cut someone else up to save someone else. Grounder or no, is that the kind of person she is now? Is she that desperate for survival she will go against her morals and ethics and everything she stands for just so she can live another day?

Do the means justify the end on this stupid planet? 

 _Yes,_ her mind whispers, y _es, yes you are because that is what had to be done. Fight or flight Clarke, the human response to threats to survival. You run or you fight, you live or you die. These are the choices you have to make and it’s about fucking time you accepted them._

Clarke casts her eyes to the heavens and lets out another sob. What she wouldn’t give to go back, to when this whole mess started. What she wouldn’t give to go back to the start and just do it all over again. No Finn, no Charlotte, no you have to hope, Finn, none of the bullshit with Bellamy, no torturing, no hating Wells, no learning the truth about her mother – none of it. She’d do it right, keep her nose clean and help instead of try to protect everyone.

“I’m sorry,” She chokes out, still looking to the stars and the huge blink that is the Ark. “I’m so sorry I failed you Dad... you deserved better for a daughter and I just... I am so, so sorry…”

The blonde wallows in her emotions for just a little while longer, lamenting over the fact that the whole she has dug herself into is one that she may never get out of – before she wipes her tears and pushes off the side of the drop ship, heading in the direction of the entrance. She will put herself together. She will lace herself back up and keep it cool until the storm passes and she can manage to reconcile the person she is with the person she once was. She can do this. She is Clarke Griffin, she survived solitary for simply trying to do what was right, she survived the betrayal of her mother the death of her father and she is still here. She will live to fight another day if even if the rest of the world doesn't want her too. "Screw them," She mutters.

That never happens however, because just as she takes her second step towards the ship, heading back inside to face what’s she done and the choices she was a made; a silent arrow, it's tip dipped in a powerful anesthetic, slices it's away through the skin of Clarke's forearm, embedding it's self there. Clarke chokes out in pain, her mouth opens in a silent scream but all that comes out is another sob. Clarke crumples to the ground, her head hitting an ill-placed rock. The gash immediately begins pouring blood and if Clarke was still all that aware of her surroundings she'd cry in pain.

All she is aware of, however, is that fact that rain continues to pour down, soaking into Clarke's skin and zapping the heat from her bones. She is cold, so very cold when the world goes dark around the edges and idly she wonders if this is what dying feels like. Do you go cold, just as your vision fades, or you stay warm throughout? These question pour throw her brain but Clarke doesn’t pay them much attention, instead, focusing on the masked face appear before her eyes. She reaches a limp hand out; hoping to confirm this is all just a fucking dream and she’s just passed out in some corner of the drop ship, hallucinating, before the whole world goes fully black and the masked man smirks at her.

The masked man scoops Clarke up and throws her over his shoulder, careful, however, of the fact that she is drugged and how her head harshly hit the ground. His tribe, his people, cannot take the chance of this vital source of information losing all its information – too much is riding on it. He steals into the night with the precious cargo he carries, footsteps and sounds covered by the howl of the wind and harshness of the rain.

Not a single soul notices as Clarke Griffin disappears from camp and from their lives. Not a single soul cares at that point, either.


	2. welcome to the jungle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im about 85% okay with this chapter, so we'll see if i visit this later. hope you guys enjoyed.

They tell her its okay. That it’s fine she doesn’t remember, that with time she will remember who she is and where she has come from and the world she inhabits; and if she does not, well, that’s okay too because she is one of them and they do not leave their own behind. (Clarke finds this answer to be too perfect, too rehearsed but she doesn’t comment, because how can a girl who was found drenched in blood, only able to remember her name and age, really comment on a rehearsed answer?)

The healer they send checks the wound on her forearm, poking and prodding at the flesh. She mutters words under her breath the Clarke doesn’t care to catch. “It will scare,” She rasps, her voice gravelly with age and weariness, and Clarke frowns at her feet. She can’t understand why this bothers her, why she feels power slowly draining from her limbs when she learns of the fate of her skin.

“Does this bother the child?” 

Clarke looks up from the patterns her feet were drawing in the dirt and frowns.  She looks at the woman holding her arm and thinks that _yes, yes it should bother me. I feel as if the old me would hate it, hate being scarred by something so stupid_ , but a resounding “No.” leaves Clarke’s lips. This new her doesn’t care about trivial things; this new her doesn’t care about the fact that in her old life she would care. She doesn’t now, and this is what matters. 

(Clarke thinks that if she lies to herself enough about the truth she’ll start to believe it.) 

The gash on the back of her head is a different story, however, as the woman drops a small amount of oil into the wound and Clarke hisses, but says nothing. This new version of her doesn’t say much, she realizes. The healer pats her shoulder and nod once, before leaving Clarke to her own devices. She mutters something to the guard stationed at her door and another person enters – a person that Clarke recognises.

“You… you’re the one who found me… saved me,” She says and the masked man nods.

“I am Adrian,” He replies, smiling slightly before gesturing with his hand for Clarke to follow him. Rationally, a girl who can’t remember anything but her name and age shouldn’t follow a complete stranger into a new world but these people – they are claiming she is one of them, that she has been missing for weeks and they were worried sick and that they promise whoever took her from them in the first place will pay – and really, if they are saying all these things, how bad can they be?

 _Oh,_ her mind whispers, _oh little Clarke you have so much to learn_. But, this, that is a piece of a puzzle she is not ready to solve yet, so she gets up off the cot and follows Adrian outside, and for the first time, she feels somewhat at peace. Because she is with the masked man – Adrian – and he saved her. There is at least one person who has her best interests at heart here.

"You may not remember much, but you will," Adrian says as he walks through the camp, and Clarke stares at the people surrounding her, the life surrounding her. Some carry fruit and dead animals, others carve weapons and some sit in groups, pouring over plans and various other things. Adrian leads her to another hut and Clarke belatedly realises that she was in the medical area and the room she is in now is her home - or what, they intend to be her home. "I know you are scared, but we are your family." Clarke looks up at Adrian, away from the rest of the camp and smiles.

* * *

By the 3rd month she is back, she is home, Clarke starts going by Arcadia. (Clarke tries to ignore the whispers this brings about when she first brings it up, the nervous glances, the way they bite the inside of their lips and nod instead of smiling and rejoicing over the fact she is trying to integrate herself further into her home.) She doesn't know why she asks people to start calling her that, just that the first three letters of the word make her feel safer and she - she needs to feel safe. She can’t walk around afraid of the people who are supposed to be her home, her family. What does that say about her?

(Her head tells her she isn’t grateful, her heart tells her too look between the lines, solve the puzzle and get back to those who really matter. Clarke finds it easier that as the days go on, ignoring her heart becomes easier and easier.)

* * *

 By the 6th month, Clarke has more scars and more bruises and she knows how to fight and defend herself; she is more like Arcadia, Adrian tells her, she is more like the little sister he once had and everyday he sees her grow stronger and more sure of herself, he feels like he is slowly regaining the one piece of his family that he lost.

(Adrian once told her they were twins, but Clarke doesn’t mention how twins and siblings often have the same eye colour, and that she and Adrian have brown and blue eyes. She doesn’t mention that they are not built the same way; that he moves like a rock and she like a graceful stream. She doesn’t mention that they are nearly polar opposites.)

Her home feels like home, her family feels like family. She tells the leaders that she still remembers nothing, that she feels frustrated that her mind is yet to unlock itself. She vows to them that once she remembers, she will come running to them to inform them of her progress, to make sure there is no lasting damage to their most valued fighter. She vows and promises and smiles and pretends.

(The first nightmare she had is one she doesn’t recognise. It is filled with people who make her smile and grit her teeth in equal measure. She doesn't remember any of their names, but their faces make her heart ache, make her head pound and she wants to cry because why the fuck can't she remember? It is her mind, her past that her mind is holding hostage and it's just not fucking fair.)

But still - Clarke continues on with her life. She trains with Adrian, she visits the leaders, she picks fruit, she bathes in the river, she sleeps. Wash, rinse, repeat. Wash, rinse repeat. 

(It comes to her when she is the river, naked and scrubbing a square of clothe over her skin to wash away the blood and dirt from a new cut, a new scar.

_“Clarke, you don’t have to be here for this,”_

_“I’m not leaving till I get that antidote,”_

Clarke mouths the name "Bellamy," to the wind and her heart aches. She doesn’t mention this to the leaders or to Adrian, the name or the heart ache.)

* * *

“We have found them!” Adrian cries one day, crashing his way down to the river, where Clarke is just finishing pulling on her clothes. Clarke looks up the hill and frowns.

“What?” Clarke hollers back.

“We have found them! Those who took you! We are launching an attack in two hours, once night falls.” Clarke nods and looks over the river, up at the pink sky and then finally to her supposed-brother.

(She doesn’t know she keeps referring to him as her supposed brother. She doesn’t know why she sleeps with a knife under her pillow, either, but here she is.)

“I want to go with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reviews make my day :)


	3. braveheart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> during the writing of this chapter i ate my way through half a block of a chocolate and three berry smoothies. yes - my feels took that much of a hit. also, give a listen to "my enemy" off the spiderman 2 soundtrack, as that was what i was listening to when writing this. enjoy!

It takes a lot for the leaders to let her join the attack against those who took her. Clarke doesn’t know why, of course, she’d assumed it’d be an easy request, something simple to grant, after all – she lived with these people for a good while, wouldn’t she be an asset in the end? However, this isn’t the case and then only thing that allows her to join in the end is the fact that the camp healer sticks up for her.

(She is yet to learn her name. She is yet to learn anyone’s name except Adrian’s, for some reason.)

“The child can not heal, cannot _remember_ if she does not fight her demons and face the darkness. Let her face the darkness.” She rasps, glaring around the table. There is a unanimous vote after that, and Clarke smiles.

She spends the next hour after the leaders meeting sharpening her arrows, making sure she has enough to sufficiently wound those her took her, those who lied to her and secretly hated her for most of her life. She plans to ruin them the way they ruined her, even if her heart aches at the prospect.

When the sun dips below the horizon, the attack group moves out, slinking through the night in the direction of the kidnapper’s camp. As they grow closer, trees begin to look familiar, the river begins to seem like home, and the worn ground looks like the path to another life… and then they see the wall and Clarke whimpers quietly.

It’s built from rough cuts of wood and scrap metal and anything else these kidnappers seem to have been able to get their hands on. It’s crude and rough and yet Clarke somehow knows that if she walks up to the structure and touches it, she’ll come away with cuts and splinters and God knows what else. From inside the camp, Clarke and the others can hear the crackle of fire, the subdued tone of voices talking and the occasional shout. They are… softer than Clarke thought they would be. Quite. It makes Clarke frown, because she expected the people who took her to be violent, angry, volatile and willing to charge head first into battle. She expected them to come find her, to steal back property that was claimed, as there’s no less. Not wait for her to show up and attack them. What was their strategy here?

Adrian looks around the wall and purses his lips. He is at a loss for what to do, since under the cover of darkness, they can’t see a gate or a way in. Luckily, thanks to some innate sense, Clarke knows what to do.

“We need to get up higher, a vantage point.” Clarke whisper shouts in Adrian’s direction and he nods, hesitating briefly before crouching down to give Clarke a boost up into a nearby tree. Clarke idly thinks that if she weren’t soaring through the air, she’d stop and analyse why her supposed brother was hesitating to help her exact revenge against those who took her and her memories. Clarke grabs a hold of a branch and swings her legs up latching on before pulling herself into a standing position. She crouches down, watching the camp she is about to attack. Her head quirks to the side, because they all look so… harmless.

The kid with the goggles looks like he wouldn’t harm a fly. The boy next to him with the too wide smile looks like he’d hug her instead of attempt to kidnap her. The girl who sits near them, well, she looks a little more dangerous, but with the way she laughs, Clarke couldn’t see her planning murder or a kidnapping. Clarke’s eyes scan over the rest of the camp while in the trees to her left and right shake, telling Clarke that her family is slowly raising in the trees and an attack is upon them.

But then Clarke sees him. Him, the boy with the shaggy hair, black as ink, black as the night sky they hide under. “Bellamy,” Clarke whispers and all of a sudden she wants to cry. She feels robbed of something, of a chance, of a life that she was supposed to live. She feels broken and her heart thumps wet and heavy in her ribcage because something is wrong… something is so very wrong. Clarke tears her eyes away from the boy and looks up to the heavens, at the twinkling stars, and just like that, a memory comes crashing into her.

( _“Can you wish on this kind of shooting star?” She questions, staring at the sky as the flares rocket towards the unknown. When the boy with the messy black hair, (Bellamy, she assumes) doesn’t answer she sighs.“…Forget it.”_

_There’s a beat._

_“I wouldn’t even know what to wish for… what about you?”_ )

Clarke looks away from the sky and towards Adrian who gestures the plan of attack. Everyone is in the trees, run across your branch, launching yourself into the camp. _Attack._

It’s a simple enough idea and Clark rights herself, backing up along the branch. She grips her bow and counts down.

“3…2…1,” Clarke mutters before running along the branch and launching herself into the camp and over the wall. Her wall, her mind whispers, her wall to the keep the grounders out. Clarke lands in crouch on the ground and stares at the shocked faces of her kidnappers… no, her friends.

Jasper. Monty. Octavia. Bellamy.

“Clarke!” Monty yells, a brilliant smile on his face.

“Arcadia!” Adrian yells. “Attack!”

And like that, Clarke stands, pulling an arrow from her quiver and firing it off into the leg of the boy with the kind eyes. She does the same to the girl with the dark skin, and the boy with the goggles. Remorse and guilt churns through her because she knows these people – she knows their names and she knows them… on some innate level these people are her friends and she’s harming them.

What kind of person is she?

Clarke pulls another arrow from her quiver and turns, coming into direct contact with the boy with shaggy hair. _Bellamy_ , her mind whispers. _Bellamy, Bellamy, Bellamy_. He has his axe held up, ready to attack, or cut off a limb, and Clarke thinks _well. At least someone here is rightfully afraid of me._

“Clarke,” He breathes, and he lowers the axe. His face is a mixture of emotions – pain, regret, hope, fear and anger – but Clarke can’t focus on that. She can only hear her name being said by him. She pulls the arrow tighter.

“How do you know that name?” She spits.

“What?” He parrots, confusion marring his forehead.

“No one knows that name.” Clarke shakes her head. No one knows that name. No one calls her that name.

“What… everyone knows that name… it’s _your_ name, Clarke,”

Over the corner of Bellamy’s shoulder, Clarke sees her supposed people retreat and she knows she has to get this over with. “Shoot the boy, Arcadia!” Someone yells and Clarke wants to scream. She doesn’t want to shoot this boy, she doesn’t want to shoot anyone, and she just wants someone to tell her the truth – about who she is, what she can do and where she’s supposed to be. That’s all she wants, that’s all she needs.

Why can’t anyone give her that?

Clarke swallows roughly and makes her choice. She spins on the balls of her feet and fire the arrow off into the arm of the girl with the brilliant smile… a girl, who knows that Clarke looks a little bit closer, looks a lot like the boy of her nightmares (dreams). Bellamy screams and Clarke drops her bow.

Choice made.

She runs for the wall, jumping over the bodies of her supposed family and dodging the attacks of her kidnappers. Clarke intended to jump the wall, climb it, splinters and cuts and bruises be damned, just as she sees Adrian go down, apparently knocked out; Clarke screams, changing course.

She slides through the dirt next to his body, tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes. She looks up at the victorious kidnapper and growls. She is going to kill them, she is going to tear them limb from limb, raise them from the dead all so she can kill them all over again. She is going to make their lives a living hell. Clarke never gets that chance, however, as someone in the camp takes a rock and smashes the back of her head, causing her body to crumple on top of Adrian’s.

The last thing she sees before the world goes black is Bellamy’s worried face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well i hope you guys enjoyed that roller coaster. the next chapter is planned to be from bellamy's point of view, i promise. as always - reviews make my day!


	4. they're using me (afraid of me)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two chapters in one day, this is how much writing this fic has ruined me.

When Bellamy Blake woke up this morning, he expected crushing loneliness, all encompassing grief and a camp that couldn’t muster the strength to move and by nightfall, would most likely be getting drunk on Monty’s moonshine. What he got instead was a Grounder attack,  _Clarke Griffin_ and having a front row seat to his baby sister taking a arrow through the arm.

Trust  _Clarke fucking Griffin_  to shake things up like usual.

Her returning though, it did more than shake things up. It changed everything. Before, the camp was sluggish and slow, buckling under the weight of the fact that it was approaching a year and Clarke had still been missing; that no matter how many teams they sent out to find her, she couldn’t be found. Everyone had felt like they failed her, failed themselves. Now, the camp was a flurry of activity. People were pushing aside the dead bodies of the Grounders, disrobing them, burying them (far away from their own dead, of course). People were repairing what was broken in the attack, helping those who had been injured, and getting started on the other tasks of the day.

And all because of  _Clarke fucking Griffin_  showing up again… and speaking of which…

Bellamy cast a look over his shoulder as the girl in question returned from the river, Miller and Jasper at her side. She looked like a spooked animal, flinching and distrusting and oh so very afraid. She looked nothing like the Clarke Griffin who called him on his shit, who took a knife from Finn’s chest, who let him torture Lincoln to save Finn’s life.

 _She looks like a Grounder,_  Bellamy realizes. _She looks like one of them._  Instead of her hair loose and down, it’s tied up with leather straps, carved pieces of bone holding it in place. Her eyes were closed off, the bright blue now dark and sullen. She moves differently, whereas she was graceful before, she now walks with purpose and confidence.

Bellamy has never seen her look more beautiful.

“Tell me you got smart and we’re gonna kill that lying bitch,” Raven states, unapologetic in her anger over Clarke’s sudden reappearance. Bellamy can’t blame her, he feels the same way 90% of the time.

“We’re not gonna kill her,” Bellamy sighs.

“Why not?”

“Because. We don’t get to decide who lives and who dies…. And if you want another reason, something happened while she was gone. Something that I want to know about,”

“So were gonna torture her,"

Bellamy rolls his eyes. “We’re gonna fucking ask her Raven.” 

* * *

The first thing that Bellamy learns about Grounder-Clarke, is that she’s very protective of the other Grounder that have tied up. (It was a fairly easy choice among the hundred that they weren’t going to tie her up. She’s not a prisoner here, or a hostage or a way to learn more about what their up against. She is their friend. Their leader.)

He learns how protective she is over the other hostage, when Octavia attempts to clean his wounds while he and Raven intend to ask Clarke about what she got up to during the 9 months she was missing. Raven heads in Clarke’s direction, while Octavia in the other Grounder’s, and Bellamy stands in the middle alternating his gaze between the two women. He’s not sure which one is more dangerous right now. Octavia wets a piece of cloth with the moonshine water mix Monty cooked up and takes to dabbing at the cuts, right as Clarke notices and growls, beginning to stand up, ready to attack Bellamy assumes, right as Raven moves in front of her blocking her view of her friend? Boyfriend?

(Bellamy ignores the twist in his gut over the fact that Clarke might have moved on with her life when she went missing. He ignores the fact that the Grounder tied up probably has her heart and he’s been left in the dust by someone he gave a shit about it.  _Again._ )

Bellamy sighs and shakes his head, before crouching in front of Clarke. He tries to catch her eyes, but she steadfastly refuses to look at him. He wants to tell her that it’s okay, that she’s safe here, that now that she’s back home everything will be already. (Bellamy wants to tell her other things too, like how the morning after the storm when they couldn’t find her, and there was a rock covered in blood, he felt like his world collapsed. He wants to tell her how he needs her, he needs her more than he thought he’d ever need anyone and he’s so sorry for acting like he didn’t. He wants to tell her three words that will change the whole course of their relationship but he draws the line there... because he won’t be telling Clarke fucking Griffin that he, Bellamy Blake, loves her when right now, she looks like a scared animal ready to attack at the first sign of threat.)

“Clarke…” He sighs, and the blonde’s eyes fly up to his.

“How do you know that name?”

“It’s your name…” He replies slowly, as if talking to a child. “Why wouldn’t I know your name… do you know your name?”

Clarke’s eyes shift away, towards the tied up grounder and Bellamy thinks, great, we had her and now we’ve lost her. He sighs again and shoots a look to Raven who nods, before heading down the ladder and out of the drop ship, in search of water and food for Grounder-Clarke.

The second thing that Bellamy learns about Grounder-Clarke, is that she doesn’t talk much. It’s a stark contrast to the Clarke from before, who wasn’t afraid in calling Bellamy out on his bullshit, who didn’t think twice about opening her mouth if it meant doing the right thing. (Charlotte flashes through his mind and Bellamy clenches his jaw. Not thing he needs to be thinking about when he’s trying to figure just what exactly happened to Clarke.

Raven comes back with food and water, setting it down in front of Clarke before once again retreating, muttering about how fucking stupid this is, and something along the lines of she was gone for 9 months, more grounders are right around the corner, but Bellamy ignores her. If his theory about Clarke is correct, she wouldn’t have told them anything… wouldn’t have even been able to tell them anything. Octavia finishes cleaning the other grounder’s wounds a few moments later and walks over to his spot from where he still watches Clarke and rests her hand on his shoulder.

“Does she have any wounds?” She questions, softly.

“Just scars from what I can see,” He replies, looking up at his sister from over his shoulder. She nods in response and leaves much the same way that Raven did – without the mutterings. Bellamy falls out of his crouch and sits on the hard metal floor and lets out a laugh, looking over at the still passed Grounder.

“What a mess, huh, Princess?”

Bellamy misses the way Clarke’s gaze snaps to where he sits, misses the way a lone tear streaks itself down her cheek. She turns her gaze down and bites her lip. “Thank you,” She murmurs, the words silent, eyes still turned down.

“For what?” Bellamy replies, a soft frown, turning to look at Clarke thinking, _yes, yes finally we’re through._

“For not making me feel like what I am.”

“And what are you?”

“…Someone who can’t remember. Anything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, hope you guys enjoyed, and reviews make my day :)


	5. belong to the world

Ever since her… semi-confession to the boy with hair as black as ink, ( _Bellamy_ her mind tells her,) things in the camp have changed. Whereas before they were wary of being around her, wary of venturing up into the drop ship to see her, now, they go out of their way to tell her things about her life, about her choices and who see used to be. There are gifts, little drawings – Bellamy showed her a scare that she sewed up with wires once... and all this, it confuses, Clarke, to be honest.

Adrian still calls her Arcadia, and Bellamy glares at him every time he says it, and there are flashes of other grounders, tied up like Adrian, with cuts and blood drying on dark skin and Clarke feels sick whenever these moments flash through her mind’s eye.

(Clarke isn’t sure, however, if she feels sick over the fact she tortured another person, or if Adrian, her supposed-brother, is intent on reminding her of who she is when it’s becoming clearer and that something is wrong.)

The one thing, however, that Clarke gathers from her kind kidnappers, is that despite how kind they all are now, no one knows what to do with her. No one knows whether it really is okay to approach her, to treat her like they did before; no one knows if they should treat her like one of her own, or keep their distance, treating her like one of them. It’s a constant tug of war that these kind kidnappers play – she looks like the Clarke from before but once they look closer, it is oh so different. The pieces of bone still tie her hair back, Clarke still refuses to use any of the elastics that the girls of the camp provide for her, instead preferring the leather straps. She doesn’t change out of her clothes, and when she washes in the river, Clarke is unapologetic in how she undresses and redresses (it’s a by product of living in a camp where people didn’t knock before entering rooms and after long, Clarke simply got used to people seeing her in various states of undress.)

“Contents may vary after delivery,” Clarke mutters to no one in particular as she watches the sibling of Bellamy clean and dress Adrian’s wounds, and Adrian lets out a snort of laughter. Octavia glares at Adrian, and Adrian bares his teeth in response. Clarke rolls her eyes, because seriously, are these two going to continue on like this, when the hatch to the drop ship opens, Raven poking her head through the whole, noticing the nurse first. “Bellamy doesn’t want you up here, O,” She sighs, pulling her body up the last of the way.

“ _Bellamy,_ doesn’t tell me what to do,” Octavia parrots back and Raven sighs before swinging her gaze in Clarke’s direction.

“You remember who you are today?” Raven drawls, and Clarke raises one eyebrow, because here’s the thing, there is a list, somewhere in her head, of things she’s remembered, things she can’t let go of, no matter what the kind kidnappers say to her, no matter how many times Adrian calls her Arcadia and bares his teeth at Octavia.

  1.      Her name is not Arcadia, like Adrian tells her it is. It is in fact, Clarke Griffin and she is the daughter of Abby and Jake Griffin, and for some reason, both those names poke at a very raw and deep wound.
  2.      She was born in space; she was set to die in space; before being sent to the ground, again, to die.
  3.      Her father was a traitor for the right reasons, her mother was a murderer for the wrong reasons, and she falls somewhere in between the two of them.
  4.      She is not a girl – she has never been a girl, she is a storm with skin and those who took her, whether it was Adrian or Bellamy or someone else, they should be afraid of her.
  5.      _Who we are and who we need to be to survive are two very different things_.



“Ooookay, well, the other Blake told me to take you outside today, and not keep you cooped up, so, ya know, lets get a move on,” Raven says, the corner of her mouth quirking up in a small smile. Clarke rises almost instantly – Adrian may be her brother, and she enjoys his company, but the possibility of fresh air and breathing life and seeing something other than the four grey metal walls, well, it is too good to pass up. Clarke’s eyes fly in Adrian’s direction, but he ignores her gaze, instead focusing on the way Octavia applies a severe amount of pressure on a tiny wound that is not even bleeding.

 _Pain is an art form,_ Clarke thinks, _an art form that Octavia has learnt from someone._

Raven rolls her eyes and heads towards the ladder art, “Yo, Griffin this way,” She says and Clarke walks over, staring down the hole, at the darkness. “Now, you do know how to climb a ladder, right?” Raven smirks. Clarke quirks her head, takes one step out and over the hole, _falling, falling, falling_ till she landed in a crouch on the lower level of the drop ship.

“…Or, that works too,” Raven called down, grin evident in her tone.

Clarke smiles, and looks around the level of the room, noticing how there are makeshift beds set up, how there are tools and pliers and needles and wires and strings and bandages and other healing supplies. Clarke realizes, belatedly, that she is in the med bay, where people go to be healed and for some reason, a warm sensation courses through her body. She feels… safe, here. At home. Like no matter who she chooses in the end, where she ends up, a place like this, where people are saved – she will be safe here.

That feeling comes to an abrupt end when Clarke notices the various arrows sitting on a small table in a corner. Various other weapons surround them, and Clarke frowns heavily. Some of them she recognizes as her own arrows, arrows she shot into the people of this camp, but  there are three – three that are the exact same except for the coloured feathers at the edge. Here people, for a short time, they never coloured the feathers, unless for important events. Celebrations, festivals, birthdays, in honour of the dead, they were deserving of a coloured arrow, not something as… as trivial as an attack…

Unless…

Clarke quirks her head and walks over the table, just as Raven lands behind her, babbling about work and chores and getting her settled, but that cuts off too, when she notices where Clarke is heading. “Hey, no, Clarke you can’t-“

“Shh.”

Clarke picks up one of her arrows, taps the edge against the corner of the table and hears a clunk in response. It's not hollow. She picks up one of the coloured arrows, taps it much in the same manner and hears a lighter sound. It is hollow.

“No…” Clarke whispers, “It can’t be…”

Dropping her arrow, Clarke grips the coloured in both hands, and cracks it open, confirming her theory about the hollow inside. She shakes both halves, and finely rolled up piece of paper slips out and onto the floor. Raven gasps and Clarke wants to cry. _No no no no…_

She picks up the piece of paper and unrolls it, reading the messy scrawl of the council, before a tear tracks down her cheek. Her eyes fly up to Raven, and the girl is much better at reading people than Clarke gave her credit for, because hell, the same expression on her face has got to be the one on Raven’s right now. “One of our hunting parties was attacked earlier… it was weird, because they were in an area we cleared as safe, and then out of nowhere, arrows were flying… it didn’t make sense,”

It makes sense to me, Clarke thinks. Her people, her kidnappers, they are coming and she needs to speak to Bellamy right now. She needs to warn them, of what, Clarke doesn’t know. Her kid- _people_ , they are deadly and silent and Clarke doesn’t know how they can defend themselves against that kind of attack.

(Clarke doesn’t know when she became part of the we in the us vs. them mentality. Perhaps she’s always been apart of the we and just… forgot for a while.)

“I need to see Bellamy,” Clarke says and Raven cuts of midsentence. “Now.” (It doesn’t escape Clarke that is the first time that Clarke has said Bellamy’s name out loud; it doesn’t escape Clarke how easy it is to say his name, either.)

Raven nods, needing no explanation.

* * *

Clarke and Raven burst into Bellamy’s tent, just as he’s pulling on his shirt, apparently after a bath in the nearby stream. Clarke tries not to feel disappointed when the flesh, previously on display is covered up by dark purple cotton. (She fails, of course, and  _spectacularly at that._ )

“Knock much, ladies?” He drawls, eyes roaming over Clarke and Raven, both looking a little worse for wear. Clarke has to frown at his choice of words, because she is so used to people barging in, that it makes no difference too her if skin is or isn’t on display.

Raven, however, rolls her eyes and clenches her jaw. “We… have a problem. A big problem, actually, now that I think about it,” Bellamy’s eyebrows raise, and his eyes drift over to Clarke and the way she clutches the piece of paper from the inside of the arrow. He holds hand out for the paper and Clarke frowns. How did he...?

“You won’t be able to read it,”

“I _can_ read, Princess,” He scoffs.

“No,” Clarke huffs, frustrated, “It’s- it's not in a language that you understand,” She still hands the piece of paper over, though, because she trusts this man. Against her better judgement, against the fact there is a very real possibility that he is hiding things from her – she trusts him. Plus, it’s going to bring her some smug joy to know that she was right.

Bellamy takes the paper, scans it and glares at Clarke. Clarke smirks and raises her eyebrows, _told you asshole_ , before Bellamy purses his lips in annoyance and Clarke sucks in a breath of air. “It’s… it’s an offer of peace… of sorts. Or well, a list of demands. They want… they want Adrian back, or they will have no mercy and attack…”

“They don't want you back, too?” Bellamy questions, eyes tracking back to Raven who shrugs.

Clarke clenches her jaw. “To them… I am… disposable,”

Bellamy opens his mouth, as if to say something and Clarke wishes he would say something, anything, right as a memory flashes before her eyes.

_He’s crouched over a body, and Clarke wants to scream. Because no, no they can’t have lost another one. It was one thing to lose two in the crash – they can’t have lost another already to this stupid planet. But as Clarke rounds Bellamy and sees the body of Atom, she knows her predictions have come true._

_“I heard screams…”_

_“Charlotte found him, sent her back to camp,”_

_And then she shakes her head at him, because there’s no way a person can survive this much second degree burns, even more so from an acid fog she hasn’t even studied. “Okay,” She whispers, “I’m going to help you, alright?” And then, she starts humming, and takes the knife from Bellamy, before stabbing Atom in the neck. He bleeds out in seconds, as 97 echoes inside her head. 97 97 97 97._

_They are down to 97._

Clarke swallows violently and looks at Bellamy, at Raven and licks her lips. She ignores the worried frowns, the way they make eye contact and have one of those silent conversations, as if they were wondering where she went just then. _Nowhere important,_ she wants to tell them. _Nowhere importan_ t. “You… you need to make a choice. Do you allow them here, to your home, to give them Adrian, or do you keep him and fight to the death. Those are the choices you have. Door 1 or Door 2.”

Bellamy nods, and looks to Raven. “What can we gain… from the other grounder?” Raven shrugs, turning the question over in her mind while Clarke frowns deeply, watching the conversation.

“Knowledge of the land, of what not to eat, what to eat, weapons training, maybe… he came in with a few other things that could be handy,” She replies, and Clarke frowns, pursing her lips.

Bellamy swings his gaze to Clarke, taking in the way she twitches and looks like a spooked animal. “Something on your mind, Princess?”

“He’s… Adrian is more to them than what you think he is. He is not just a source of information, like you think he is... shit, His mother… she was the sister of the leader of the clan you are so eager to go to war with. He's destined to one day be the leader of the clan, and there is nothing his family will not do to get him back.”

Realisation dawns on both Raven and Bellamy’s faces and Clarke can’t help but think _stupid, stupid, stupid._ She is a traitor to her people, she is betraying the trust of those who helped her, fed her, clothed her, and taught her how to fight when she could barely do so for herself.

“No one goes in with the grounder, put two guards outside the drop ship at all times. Tell the patrols to keep a sharp eye, and have extra bullets - but only if we can spare them. If Clarke's right and  we’ve got royalty tied up there, I wanna be fucking sure that nothing or no one is slipping by us. We aren’t losing anymore of the 100,” Bellamy barks out, both to Raven and Miller who somehow lurked outside of  Bellamy’s tent. Raven and Miller disappear seconds later and Clarke, unsure of what to do, swings her gaze around Bellamy’s tent. She remembers it, vaguely, of course. Mainly nights spent here, pouring over plans, arguing about the best way forward for the group. It feels so strange but so right at the same time.

Bellamy lets out a huff and scrubs a hand through his hair and – _oh_ , Clarke knows that look. She’s seen it on Adrian’s face before; on many members of the council too; it is a look of utter desperation, it is a look of someone who can’t bear to make the hard choices anymore, who can’t bare to have anymore lives resting on their shoulders. And if she's reading him right, Clarke thinks there’s also a small amount of guilt mixed in there, too.

“It hurts until it doesn’t. You think it’s going to break you, but it won’t. You may not sleep as well at night, but you will be fine. Numb, but numb and fine are the same…” Clarke murmurs, and Bellamy snaps his head in Clarke's direction. Something passes between them in that moment; an unspoken agreement, an unspoken agreement that they have something, that they have an understanding. An understanding that allows them to be the people that haunt their nightmares and not be judged for it. They can be monsters with the other clans and the rest of the camp and whoever else threatens them - but in this tent, alone, none of that matters. They understand each other and Clarke thinks that _monsters are made - not born, a product of a cruel world filled with cruel people and you my friend, my Bellamy, you are not a monster._ The blonde nods once, before turning to leave his tent.

“Hey... Clarke, uh,” He stutters and Clarke turns around, head quirked. “You remember anything, recently, I mean,”

(Clarke wants to tell him she remembers the butterflies in her stomach, that she remembers annoyed glances across the camp. She wants to tell him about the fights they had and the way it left her heart pumping and adrenaline running through her veins, she wants to tell him about the first time she saw him on the drop ship, right after they’d landed and to her, he looked like Christmas morning.) 

“No, just… flashes, of the camp, group, non-important stuff,” She says, instead, because those memories, those little important things between them, they are things she wants to keep to herself for just a little while longer, things that she can’t bare to give up.

At least – not yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, hello there you guys. still can't believe i wrote all this, but there you go. im thinking there might be another 3 parts to this story, including an epilogue, if my general outline goes as planned, but we'll see how that goes. as always, i hope you guys enjoyed and reviews make my day :)


	6. the calm before the storm

The camp is a hub of activity. That’s the first thing Clarke notices when she leaves the drop ship the next morning before sunrise. (Another by product of living with her people – she always rose early to have a selection of the best fruit and bread that was put out for breakfast. If you weren’t up early, you didn’t eat till lunchtime.)

People run about, following orders from Bellamy, or Raven or even Miller; some collect rations, some relive last night’s patrols, others are grabbing food in-between jobs so they don’t run low on energy. It astounds Clarke, truly, that these people can be so afraid and so efficient at the same time. It scares her too, because that means that these people are resilient, they will not go down without a fight and if Clarke knows her people like she thinks she knows her people, they will surely give them that fight.

Clarke doesn’t join in on the activity at first, choosing to simply people watch, because if all goes well, by tomorrow morning, this group of people will be her new home, (maybe they were already her home) and she wants to know as much of that as she can. Clarke sighs a little, and looks around the camp, watches as Raven and Octavia walk out of the drop ship. For a moment, Clarke wonders about Adrian. She wonders if he is okay, if his wounds from the fight have healed, if when she ventures up there later in the day, he will still deny he said her name in his sleep. It leaves a dark frown on her face, a frown that doesn’t really fade till Bellamy’s loud and clear voice rings out across the quad.

“From now on, we’re not only going to learn how to use guns and the arrows we confiscated from the grounders over there, we’re going to learn hand to hand. I won’t lie to you guys, bullets are running low, and we need alternatives. This, is the alternative,” He says, standing in the middle of a cleared space. Clarke raised an eyebrow and looks out over the assembled crowd. There wasn’t a lot of people there, and those who were looked jumpy and scared… they looked like they were at the end of their ropes, in all honesty.

Clarke wanted to tell them that when you are at the end of your ropes, all you needed to do was tie a knot and hold on – but somehow she just couldn’t bring herself to say it. She just couldn’t bring herself to help these people, when she already was betraying those who had taught her to fight and be stronger than she was. It is a constant battle with her – the person she is now, and the person that she used to be; it is hard to reconcile the two people. She is so used to surviving by any means necessary without relying on anyone at all, that to know here in this camp, she could rely on people – it’s a tough pill to swallow. Sighing to herself, Clarke runs a hand through her hair and watches as Raven sidles up next to her, leaning her forearm against Clarke’s shoulder. Clarke shoots her a look. Raven rolls her eyes.

Bellamy beckons the first boy closer, and he looks no older than the age of 15, and Clarke thinks he’s too old, too set in his ways. There’s nothing that can be taught to him, and it’s sure to be an easy fight. Her theory proves true, of course, the young boy landing with a loud thumb on his back not even 15 seconds later. Clarke lets out a snort of laughter because come on – _did no one else see that coming?_

The young boy, however, doesn’t see it as such, and whirls angrily in Clarke’s direction. “You got something to say, Grounder?” He spits, as if the very thought of the words pouring out of his mouth disgust him. Clarke raises an eyebrow and quirks her head at him.

 _Children,_ she thinks, _I’m living with children._ “Your stance. It’s wrong,” She replies, and Adrian snaps his head in Clarke’s direction. She knows what he’s thinking, that teaching them to fight is high on the list of betrayals, but she doesn’t care. (She hasn’t cared for a while now.)

“Oh, like you can do better,” The boy snarls and Clarke smirks.

“I can,”

“Well, come on down than Princess,” Bellamy says and Clarke shrugs, Raven’s arm dropping from her shoulder. Clarke pulls off her jacket – the first time she’s done so since she arrived, (taken, returned?) revealing a holy tank top that cuts off at her midriff to purposely show the tattoos Clarke now has. The two black lines start at her hips, curl around her waist and up along her back, stopping just at the tops of her shoulders.

(She’d gotten her tattoos at the 6 month mark, Adrian by her side and whispering words of comfort to her throughout the pain but all Clarke could think during it all was _why didn’t I have them before now and why is my brother acting like someone who isn’t that?)_

There are gasps and glares but Clarke doesn’t notice, too focused on Bellamy and the circle that every other member of this camp has created around them, and for Clarke, the tension cranks up a few knots because _holy fuck_ – he has this little smirk on his face and his hands are on his hips and he looks oh so thoroughly entertained by this whole thing, that Clarke can’t help but feel a little bit turned on and little bit sorry for him, because when she’s done with him – he’s really, really gonna hurt.

Oh well. Learning experience and what not.

Clarke takes her stance a few paces away from Bellamy, her stance easy and loose, while Bellamy tenses up and readies his hands and Clarke thinks oh god this might just be too easy. He swings one arm out, reading to punch but Clarke swiftly dodges, and with her opposite leg, kicks Bellamy’s weight out from underneath him. He lands with a thud in the dirt, and the camp lets out a bunch of laughter while Clarke stands to the side, hands on her hips and smirking down at Bellamy. She didn’t even break a sweat.

“Again?” She questions when he stands up and Bellamy glares, working out the kinks in his jaw. “Again.”

They retake their stances from before, amid low murmurings from the camp and Clarke sucks in a breathe, right as Bellamy goes in for another punch, catching Clarke off guard. She manages to block the blow, but not with enough accuracy as she’d like, and Bellamy takes pure advantage of that. He grips her hands and twists her arm – her back plastered to his front.

“Better?” He breathes at her ear and – oh, did it just get warmer in here or is it just her?

“Getting there,” She murmurs through gritted teeth. Clarke lets out a grunt of extortion and rocks forward on her feet, then rocks back, before going forward again, and this time with enough momentum going, manages to flip Bellamy over her shoulder, causing him to land with another thud on his back. The crowd cheers and claps and laughs while Clarke crouches down, patting Bellamy’s cheek. “But not quite good enough,” She winks before standing up again. The blonde turns away, assuming that class is over, but somehow, in the five seconds that Clarke had her back turned, Bellamy had managed to stand up and regain his equilibrium. Bellamy wraps his hand around Clarke’s wrist, yanking her back against his chest once again, except this time he wraps an arm around her waist and one around her neck.

Which, okay, look, it’s not like Clarke’s actively thought about what it’d be like fuck Bellamy, but her imagination gets away from her sometimes. It’s not her fault she continually thinks about the butterflies he gives her, it’s not her fault she caught him in the stream the other day, washing away days worth of grime and dirt and sweat and blood. And it’s most certainly not her fault that all these little things combine in her head and make her wonder.

It’s not.

(It is.)

“How are you gonna get out of this one, Princess?” He murmurs in her ear, and Clarke chokes out a breath, slightly struggling to breathe. Whether that’s from oxygen deprivation or ache in her belly, Clarke doesn’t know. She doesn’t really want to know either. In the corner of her eye, she can see Raven and Octavia taking bets, and she hears Bellamy’s name more than she does her own, which, ya know – hurts. She’s beaten his ass two times now, do people not believe her? Believe that she can do this? That she’s been trained to this? _Well,_ she thinks, _third times a charm._

 _Solar plexus,_ Clarke shifts her body, and jabs her elbow into the centre of Bellamy’s chest, which lets out a huff of breath, his arms around her loosening. _Instep,_ Clarke steps on his foot, and he crouches over. _Nose,_ then, halfway turning, Clarke jabs her opposite elbow into Bellamy’s nose, and finally, groin, before jabbing her left elbow into his _groin._

Bellamy collapses into a groaning heap on the dirt floor, and Clarke, out of breath, walks over to Bellamy before shooting him a huge grin. “How’s that for getting out?” And despite the pain he’s in (Clarke’s about 65% sure she might have broken his nose, or at least bruised it really, really badly and not to mention the fact he’s probably winded and suffering shooting pains all up and down his legs) Bellamy grins. Clarke reaches out a hand, and Bellamy grips it, and rocking back on her heals, Clarke brings Bellamy to his feet.

It’s in that moment, the two of them breathless and in Bellamy’s case in pain, that they feel happy and alive. The rest of the hundred are loud too, either cheering or grumbling or moaning or something else but they are all alive. Clarke could hear everyone’s heart beat, strong and heavy and human – and they are so alive, burning bright and Clarke just wants to stop this moment right here. She wants to bask in the glory of it all, breathe it in and just be… because here, staring at Bellamy, matching grins on their faces, while the rest of the hundred roar around them, they are not bound by their pasts. They are not monsters or murders or traitors – _they are human._

And then the gate opens, the midday shift venturing inside the camp and like that, the perfect world they’d inhabited for just a moment – is shattered and Clarke’s reminded of the fact that Bellamy and Raven and others, they are about to walk off and barter for her life, barter for her freedom to simply be.

A freedom that Clarke isn’t even sure she wants just yet.

Swallowing in a breathe of air, Clarke’s grin fades of her face and she nods at Bellamy. He frowns, nods himself before turning in the direction of the drop ship, obviously looking for his pack and his sister. Clarke turns to Raven and offers a weak smile, and Raven returns it with a wink. She juts her chin in the direction of the drop ship, the direction of Bellamy, the other woman clearly telling her to _go, say your goodbyes, say whatever you need to say because regrets are not something they can afford on Earth._

(Clarke refuses to think about the fact that this might be the last moment she’ll ever see Raven – she refuses to think about the fact by tomorrow morning, when the group is due back, they could very well be dead.)

Taking the other woman’s advice, Clarke heads in the direction of the drop ship, past Octavia who left as she walked in. Clarke pretends not to see the other girls tears, pretends that the ache in her heart is for her people and her mysterious, supposed brother. She pushes the fabric aside and walks in, awkward and shy. Bellamy turns to face her a moment later, and Clarke opens her mouth to speak but Bellamy beats her too it.

“He’s not you brother, you know?” And Clarke reels back, because no, no she is not ready to have this conversation, she is not ready to face this… this part of her life, of herself just yet.

“What – no,”

“I’m a brother, Clarke… I’ve been one for a good portion of my life and brothers and sisters, siblings, they don’t act the way Adrian acts around you,” He says. His face is open, honest and Clarke’s heart tells her to believe him. To trust him because he is just trying to do the right thing, to bring Clarke back to him… and that’s the thing, isn’t it? He doesn’t want this new Clarke, he doesn’t want the Clarke who can’t remember the name of her best friend, who can’t remember her birthday or what her favourite colour is or what she wants to do with her life. He wants the other Clarke, the Clarke who remembers everything, who thinks before she kills, who knows all the useless little facts about herself.

Clarke stays silent, stubborn as ever, refusing to even listen to what he’s trying to say and Bellamy sighs, grabbing his pack, moving to leave the drop ship. He pauses by Clarke, and lifts one hand to her shoulder. He leaves it there for a minute, trying to say what Clarke won’t hear and then after a moment, he is gone. Clarke’s eyes slip closed and she – fuck, she can’t let their last few moments be that. She can’t let the last memory she might have of him trying to tell her the truth about her life – trying to convince her that the life she had with her people, her grounders, isn’t real. Isn’t the one she wants to lead. She has a choice to make then, she has to decide if she wants to stay in the shadows with Adrian and her grounders – or stand in the sun with Bellamy and her people.

“Fuck it,” Clarke mutters and spins on her foot, chasing Bellamy out into the sunlight.

“Bellamy!” Clarke yells from the opening of the drop ship, sucking in a breath as the man in question turns around a frown on his face. Clarke doesn’t waste any time, running to him, jumping into his arms and sliding her lips across his.

It’s not a pretty kiss – it’s a fight for dominance, it’s an apology, it’s a promise, it’s everything and nothing at the same time. Clarke breaks away first and tries to hold back her tears because Christ, this might be the last time she sees him. This might be the last time she’ll ever hokd him or touch him and it doesn’t matter if she doesn’t know Bellamy right now – she wants to know him at some point, and if he dies while on this mission, if he dies trying to save his people, she will never know this strange and infuriatingly goregus man in her arms.

It’s not a reality that Clarke wants to entertain.

“Don’t leave me alone in this world,” She breathes, digging her teeth into her bottom lip. Bellamy reaches his thumb up, gently untucking her lip from her teeth before winking at her.

“Not in a million years, Princess,” And then like that – he is gone and Clarke is alone and she doesn’t know why she feels so fucking empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bit of fluff, bit of angst, bit of sexual tension - this is one of my favourite chapters. as always, hope you guys enjoyed and reviews make my day :)


End file.
